


Broken Stars

by Serpyre



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpyre/pseuds/Serpyre
Summary: "There was a man who loved the moon, but whenever he tried to embrace her, she broke into a thousand pieces and left him drenched with empty arms."After Apollo's fateful ceremony, Artemis stumbles into the forests and ends up in a cave with a Hunter. The concept of Love was a far cry from Chaste—a spiraling dark hole, one as tempting as Tartarus might've been; and yet, she fell. AU.





	1. Chapter 1

  


_"Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars."_

_― **J.R.R. Tolkien** , **The Lord of the Rings**_

* * *

''Aphrodite never finds love,'' the Moon Goddess smiled slightly, as she sat by the fountain on Olympus, with the Goddess of Wisdom and the Queen of the Underworld listening in. ''She but binds souls; twists fates; and lets the mortals fall in love with the love she'll never find.'' Then, with a smirk on her face, she added: ''And as a maiden goddess myself, I cannot believe that she doesn't see it as clearly as I do.''

Athena and Persephone both let out a chuckle that day. But the Love Goddess, entering through the arches that led to the fountain had heard the Maiden's condemnation, and it was at night, in light of the Full Moon, that she struck.

''I curse you, Moon Goddess!'' the Love Goddess screamed once they exited the Throne Room. The Moon Goddess but gave a glance to Aphrodite—who seethed with rage.

''Artemis, in the name of the pyres of love; the inextinguishable eyes of eternal flame; and the fervor that one many a man kills for; _I curse you!_ Scarred by your bow and the unholy grace of your silver heart, an ornate man one befriends and dooms to its death—I swear, by everything that I hold dear, by the unforgiving flames of love and hate and pain alike—Heartbreak _will break you!'_ '

Artemis stilled. And before Aphrodite could utter another word, she laughed, loud and strong, laughed like she'd never laughed before.

''Curse?'' She choked out, amidst fits of giggles. ''You _curse me?_ An eternal maiden who doesn't fall under your sphere of influence?'' She laughed even harder now, tears forming in her eyes. ''Good luck with that,'' the Moon Goddess snickered, and walked away without turning back.

* * *

_There was a time when she was young without a care._

_There was a time when she loved no-one; hated anyone who dared oppress her._

_There was a time when she cared naught but for the Moon; her Duty; and the Stars._

_She wished she could take back her words._

* * *

'' _And now, we shall crown Phoebus Apollo as the god of the Sun, the Light, the Music, and Prophecy. Please, sound your commendations.''_

_Polite applause erupted from the crowd. Apollo smiled with radiance, effectively hiding whatever nervousness or agitation he had. He took a quick glance towards Artemis, who returned a quiet smile. Behind the pedestal where Apollo stood in all his glory, Helios looked on kindly, his body emitting a dying light, ready to initiate the ceremony whenever the word was given._

_There was a burst of blinding light._

_And then she saw nothing but the throbbing pain in her head, her body, and most importantly, her eyes._

_It was searing, as if a fire had been lit from the within and was burning her from the out. All around her, the dim cheering of the crowd was heard, but her mind was far from that._

_Pain… the **pain** …_

_It was unbearable._

_Tossing aside the furry robe she was given by Zeus, she blindly ran away from the crowd, and towards the clearing, where she knew the dense forests stood. She didn't care where she was going… just somewhere, where she couldn't feel the warmth of light or the acute burn from the sun._

_The humid canopy brought her temporary sanctuary, but the light still crisscrossed from the gaps in between of the trees. She saw herself, running as if there was no end, waiting, waiting, for the daylight to disappear and for her territory, for the night sky to cleanse the light._

_In the midst of the forests, she stopped in a haze of blinding pain and dropped to the ground. The dirt felt moist against her touch. Grasping a fistful in her hand, she clenched it tightly, as if she could mirror her pain onto something else… but felt something crawling within._

_What?_

_Hesitantly, she brushed a hand onto the creature. It was smooth, glossy, and as she ran her fingers over the shell, temporarily distracting her from the unforgiving burn, an idea began to form in her head._

_Not an idea. A realization._

_It was an insect. Not just any, though._

_It was a type of troglobite. And troglobites only existed within caves._

_Which meant…_

_She grasped for more fists of dirt, crawling amongst the muddy grounds, trying to find more troglobites, and then she felt it._

_A blast of cool air, a relieving parallel to the light that shone so painfully earlier. She crawled further within the cave system, and as she went further, the pain dimmed so…_

_But not enough._

_It was still there, like a crackle or a sting, a haze of torment and she could only sit and wait. She pulled her knees to her shaking body and huddled there, waiting…_

_Waiting for the sun to set._

_Suddenly, she heard another set of footsteps, riveting around the walls of the cave. Under the indistinct pain, she tried to be alert; lifting her head so and drawing her bow, but her slight trembling hands couldn't draw straight. The footsteps echoed; and stopped, right in front of her huddled form. He stared—and she thought of the worst—before he knelt down and put a comforting hand on her shoulder._

'' _Are you alright?'' he asked worriedly. Artemis shook her head no, too dazed to comprehend… but managed a weak push in an effort to shake the man's placating hand off of her shoulder._

_But if there any indication of her weak attempt, it was that the man knelt down and comforted her still. There was no attempt at what… most males would've done in their position, and the only thing he seemed to try was to calm her down and wipe away a bead of sweat from her contorted grimace._

_She tried to yell stop, tried to push him away even if he didn't do anything wrong, but she couldn't find the strength to speak._

'' _Don't worry,'' she heard him promise. ''I'll keep you safe.''_

_It was the last thing she heard before all went dark._

* * *

_''Some things we can't just see. Some things we just have to feel, and we have to trust that it's there.''_

* * *

Artemis woke with a start.

At first, she heard nothing but shrill buzzes in her ear, as if she was under a bee's canopy. But when she tried to open her eyes, and when nothing responded but the stark darkness, she remembered everything. Her... predicament. Her _eyes_. The acute burning pain from the sun. From _Apollo's sun._

How it wasn't just a nightmare, and how much she wished it just was.

And most of all, the man at her side, who whispered a mound of meaningless words in her ear, tried to comfort her shaking self, who _violated her boundaries_. Whom of which was at the far end of the cave, the endless noise of grinding against bowl grating on her ears.

''I'm currently brewing a herb that'll help relieve the pain,'' he said. She tensed up at the sound of his voice, drawing up quickly against the wall. Perhaps he noticed her tense, for he added: ''Don't worry; no harm will come to you from it.''

''And how would you know?'' Artemis responded bitterly, in an effort to antagonize this man. She still hadn't forgiven him for touching her, a _virgin goddess,_ and a man-hater at that.

In the back of her mind though she knew he was speaking the truth—he sounded, and moved as if he were a hunter—and of course, all hunters had learned through trial and error whether if a herb or fruit was poisonous or not.

''I've learned it during my stay in the Crete's forests,'' he said casually. Another light scoff came from her. _Men and their boasting ways._

''Hey!'' The man's indignancy made her whip her head around. ''Don't belittle me—I'm just trying to help.''

_What part of your stay in the Crete would help me?_ However, instead of retorting, Artemis stilled and thought about her current situation. She was in a cave, with a man in the far end. Apollo's ceremony was during dawn. Her eyes were still throbbing, but at a lesser volume than it had before. If she had to guess, it would be around midday or late afternoon.

Without another word, she grasped against the cold hard rock walls and began to follow it to the exit—but not before the man let out a cry.

''Wait!'' He called. ''Don't leave yet. I can help.''

''And with what?'' Artemis retorted. ''Your herbs?'' The goddess almost laughed a hollow laugh. There was nothing he could do, not unless he could cure her eyes and return her to normality.

If the man was hurt, he didn't comment on it. He should be glad that Artemis hadn't even touched upon his violation of her earlier. He was lucky to still be alive, and that was only due to her dazed state then. If she wanted to, she would've transformed him into a jackalope in an instant for even daring to touch her.

_But why didn't you?_

Ignoring that unpleasant though for now, she addressed the other thought that nagged in the back of her mind. _Where was Apollo?_ She would've thought that he would at least be here, or even at least would've tried to track her after the ceremony was over. After all, it wasn't like she was trying to conceal her tracks.

A part of her wished she'd woken up in Olympus, instead of this cave.

''—The herbs will help, yes,'' the man continued, oblivious to her train of thought. ''It is known for its efficient elevation of pain. I can assure you that it works wonders—and no harm will come from consuming it.''

''Why do you even care so much anyway?'' Artemis spat bitterly. She waited for the man to respond—or perhaps even to wait for his train of thoughts to occur—so she could find an excuse to blast him to oblivion.

''I—'' he faltered. He didn't seem to have an excuse ready; and all the better for meaningless words and thoughts such as '' _I wanted to help''_ or hell, '' _you're pretty''_ would ensure him a merciless death by her hand and another reason for her to scorn men.

There was no response from the man.

''Thought so.'' Following the cave walls with her fingers, she turned to leave, without a care of the world or if she'd hurt the boy's emotions. Hell, she didn't even care where she went; didn't even care if she was leaving the cave complex nor did she care that the sweltering heat meant it was midday-afternoon where the pain would flare up all over again. Artemis didn't even know where she was going—only towards where the blazing heat blasted against her as she left the cool of the cold—to where she was sure was the exit.

''Wait! Don't go yet. I—'' The man faltered. Scoffing, Artemis continued her way forwards, at a brisker pace than before, as irritation spewed over her. _Couldn't he just spit it out?_

''I understand how you feel,'' he said quietly, and she almost didn't catch his whisper. His steady voice solemn, the blaze of the Sun's heat scorching her eyes, as the sounds of troglobites trotting further into the caves echoed through the complex, she heard him say: ''I have been blind once.''

The heavy breathing that emanated from the other side of the cave was concurrent with the blind troglobites.

Artemis stopped in her tracks and turned back. Her face no longer enduring the burning heat, she welcomed the salvation of the cool cave. Something clicked in her mind as if a candle had been ignited.

She would label it as curiosity, but something else was mangled with it as well. Artemis wasn't sure what.

_I have been blind._

Astounded, she asked: ''What did you just say?''

''I have been blind once,'' he repeated. Breathing still heavy, she listened to him recite: ''I was a hunter for the king of Chios, Oenopion. Recruited for my skills, which I built in my time with the Pleiades, and my mother Euryale, the Queen of Amazons, I was a skilled hunter, the only one that was a Poseidon as well.''

He took a loud breath; as if the next part was physically painful for him to say. ''One day, after a feast, I was accused of a crime, and the vengeful king Oenopion had me blinded.''

''You got better,'' she stated. Unless he had enhanced senses, there was no way the boy would've known that she was in the cave. She was a huntress; and although she didn't necessarily cover her tracks well, she definitely wouldn't let herself be tracked by a blind man.

''Yes, I have,'' he agreed. ''I sought help from Hephaestus in Lemnos. He was kind enough to take me in, as I recounted my tale to the god. Pitying me, he gave me a second chance. Forged me a new pair of eyes, and just like that, I could see again.''

She tried to ignore the curious sting she felt at his words. _Just like that._ How easy was it for him to see again? Venom might've been laced into her thought, but a new understanding had risen. He'd gained his sight back after being blinded. And if he could reforge his sight — why couldn't she?

''Why do you want to help me?'' She asked quietly, but her low, harsh tone came off as accusing.

He paused. Quietly, almost breathlessly, he said: ''Because I do not want to see another suffer alone in the dark.''

She didn't respond. Neither did she contemplate his words. Her mind was a blank murky swirl, thoughts surfacing and fading into the black light. The man must've noticed her vexation because she felt the warmth of his finger on her hand.

''My name is Orion. And yours?''

She smirked, the explicit irony of the situation almost making her smile. ''Artemis, boy. Goddess of the Hunt.''

* * *

''You—you're the goddess Artemis—'' Suddenly, she heard a shuffle and a shift, and she heard the man clear his throat. It was only until after did she realize he was bowing. ''Forgive me, Lady Artemis,'' he spoke hastily. ''I—I never realized. I didn't know.''

Irritation twinged on her skin—and then she felt surprised. Wasn't she supposed to enjoy this? A man displaying proper reverence?

She pushed the unease to the back of her mind, and addressed the man himself. ''Rise, Orion,'' and on another note, she added: ''Though you have… touched myself, I shall let it pass,'' she said, albeit reluctantly. ''Even if you tried to cure me with herbs.''

''Thank you, Lady Artemis,'' she heard Orion say gratefully. A smile played on his words as he spoke, a sound funnily melodic. ''However, the herbs are indeed helpful.''

Artemis sighed exasperatedly, but nonetheless, let it slide. Her mind bounced back to his words earlier; _about curing his blindness._ ''You were talking about… Lemnos?''

Orion's surprise was evident. ''Lemnos? Oh, yes… Hephaestus' forge. He had cast me a new pair of eyes, there.'' A sudden swing of unease took his voice, rapid like a gust of wind. ''Would—would you like me to take you there?''

Excitement that she hadn't felt since her blindness surfaced. ''You would?'' Artemis asked the lone Hunter, like a child, momentarily forgetting about her status and sheer power.

A quiet moment passed. Artemis had to strain her ears to hear the murmur under Orion's breath. ''… no… No, I cannot…''

'' _What?''_ Fury overtook her voice, and hearing Orion take an unsteady step back fuelled the flames even more. She was about to blast the male, but managed to refrain—by the thought that she did not know how much power she regained, that she wouldn't be able to blast him accurately, for the blindness affected her balance as well; and making a ruckus in the cave would attract hunters— _predators_ —and not necessarily ones as kind as Orion either.

Reluctantly she extinguished the silver flames, just as Orion yelled out: '' _Wait!''_ As he caught his breath, Artemis heard him say: ''I cannot bring you to Lemmos—because Hephaestus' forges are closed in the Winter. I will bring you there when I can, Lady Artemis—but we must wait until Spring to ask his favor.''

Artemis had to admit that Orion had a point. There was no use in leaving for a three-day trip to Lemnos only to be greeted with closed doors.

She huffed at the thought of having to wait three months to regain her vision. Three months was nothing for the gods, for they lived in the constant present—but by the mere thought of it three months felt to extend into eternity.

_Fine_. She didn't have any better options.

Suddenly, Orion spoke again—she didn't notice it before, but his voice sounded deep and pleasant—like a sea's serenade. ''Before you came, I found tracks made by a flock of birds,'' he said softly. He took an audible step towards the goddess, and she stiffened; until he spoke.

Mischievously, a grin in his voice, the scent of the sea unmistakably fragrant, his fingers digging into cracked leather; ''May I invite Milady to a hunt?''

* * *

He was risk-taking, Artemis'll give him that.

Not many invited— _or challenged,_ for the matter—the Hunt goddess to a hunt. Nevertheless, she accepted the invitation—and found herself running through the Crete plains, hunting for the wild birds as she followed Orion's lead.

She had to admit, Orion was a good hunter. He threw small stones to strike the birds above—a slight downgrade from a bow, and a bit distasteful from the goddess' perspective—but he managed to hit his target every time, which aroused a cry from the pained birds that she pinpointed and finished off with a shoot from her bow.

She wasn't an idiot though. She knew Orion chose this place for the sole reasoning that the birds were loud, slow, clumsy and easy to hit that even a blind man could easily strike them down. It was only a wonder that its species were not extinct given the number of predators that would've hunted it by now.

By all means, she should've taken it as an insult. He was insulting her ability to hunt with such pathetic prey.

But she found herself appreciating Orion's thoughtfulness; for he was giving her time to build her confidence; and if she were alone, she wouldn't've found the strength to return to Hunt.

She shot a few birds herself; those squawking loudly needed only a stone thrown—a cry sounded—and an arrow shot—and the bird was as good as dead. Those quieter needed a few more stones—some more strained hearing—and a few arrows whizzing by till one met its mark.

''Two… five... ten… thirteen!'' counted Orion as Artemis sheathed her bow. He sounded like he was beaming. ''That's more than yesterday's haul!''

She smirked grimly, amidst the swirling black. ''Glad I could be of assistance.''

''You know,'' Orion said quietly, once they packed the birds, and sweat poured from her neck, and the hunt was over. ''I could've never done that without you. I'm truly terrible at the bow.''

Artemis let herself a small, rueful smile. ''I suppose I'll have to teach you, then.'' she said sardonically, but the words were heartfelt.

She did appreciate his help.

* * *

She felt uncomfortable in the Marketplace.

Granted, there were a surplus of mortals and a gigantic crowd—and it was that precisely that made her uncomfortable. There were sounds—too many sounds, distorted voices, and vocal cues for her to discern—and she was only saved by Orion's guiding hand.

''I don't like it here,'' she muttered to her guide. ''Let's finish this quick.''

She received no verbal response from Orion, but his grip tightened on hers—like a knowing squeeze—as they waded through the crowd.

After a while, Orion abruptly stopped. ''This is the Auction Centre,'' he said lowly. He guided her hand to a jutting metal handhold. Artemis grasped it, and ran her fingers on the swollen wood it was embedded in. A stage, she realized.

''I'll be auctioning our haul up there,'' he said, gesticulating to the stage. ''Just wait here. If you need anything, just let me know.''

She nodded and grasped the metal handhold. It was old, and she could feel the chalky rust under her hand. Orion climbed up to the stage beside her; as she felt his steps vibrate.

''All buyers, look no further!'' His sturdy voice reverberated through the Marketplace. ''Fresh meat for sale! 'Tis hunted merely this Afternoon, selling at affordable prices! Only thirteen birds left!''

Artemis focused on Orion's voice; grasping at the handlebar, as the commotion swept through the stage. She heard indistinct chattering; loud negotiations; the solemn tinkering of money—and she had to focus on one source—Orion's voice— to keep the noise at bay from overwhelming her. It was situations like this when she wished she could disable her godly hearing.

She held on the bar like it was a lifeline, and she didn't even notice the steps approaching her until it was too late.

''Hey, look!'' Artemis heard a man jeer. ''Seems like the Hunter's finally brought us something to _buy_ this time!''

She could hear three, four voices laugh. Overhead, she heard Orion's negotiations abruptly stop. Artemis could imagine him looking at her in concern; ignoring the buyers that tossed him their money; wondering if she could take care of herself _in her state._ That thought made her stiffen.

Tightening her fists, she glared at the foursome. Blurry black lights danced in her eyes, like a leaden taunt. ''Last warning,'' she snarled. ''Leave now, or I will be forced to do something that will make you regret your words for what little is left of your life.''

The group paused for a moment, before they burst into peals of laughter.

She gripped the metal handlebar with a force that threatened to rip. One of the loudest laughers spoke, his disgustingly hot breath wafting against her nose. ''Hah! What are you gonna do to us, huh? Hell, y'can't even _look_ straight—''

Growling, she ripped the metal bar cleanly off the podium. Gasps emitted through the crowd, as their attention turned from Orion to her. She could almost hear the terror in their voices, see the fear in their eyes. Smiling darkly, the cold metal in her hand, she sauntered towards the once-jeering voices, now shaken with fear.

''W—wait!'' one said through a stutter. ''—that's not—''

It was his last words before the metal slammed against his head. The shock of it, a resonant gong, rippled through herself and the crowd like an acoustic wave. The man fell to the ground, unconscious or dead— she didn't know— nor cared.

_What would she give to see their terrified faces._ But unconsciously, she felt the crowd's eyes on her—and once the gasps sounded, they did not stop; tunnelling through the scared crowd like lightning gossip.

Dizziness washed her mind. Artemis stumbled, losing her balance, as the sound of the shrieks and cries rattled her eardrums. Handlebar swaying in her hand, she grasped the air futility for a hold; a balance; and caught a warm hand.

Orion's.

But before she could do anything else, a high-pitched scream sounded, momentarily disorienting her bearings as the yell stabbed at her mind: '' _Help! She—she just killed my friend!''_

The uproar of the crowd mirrored the roar of blood in her ears. Silver flames burst in her palms—and as the crowd reeled back in shock, she snarled at the mortals, as if daring them to attack.

''Run,'' was the last word she rasped before the Marketplace descended into chaos.

* * *

Artemis burst away in a blast of silver light.

She needed to get away. The sounds in the Marketplace murdered her hearing; like a wailing siren was put next to her ears. Her palm still warm from Orion's touch; she breathed in the cool smell of Olympus.

Olympus was different from what she'd remembered. It was always a place of grandeur; filled with tapestries of their deeds, artifacts, and statues praising them, and artful portraits of the gods. But this time, as she tread into the stony chambers, fingers tracing the cold marble stone, footsteps echoing through the hollow halls, it felt like a cold, dark heart, impossibly large and yet sparsely populated. She like a lonely king in her grand castle, an infinity of spiraling halls and mountains of chambers; never to fill a family.

She never noticed that Olympus was this lonely.

''Artemis,'' she heard a voice behind her say. She turned—and felt undescribable pain flare in her eyes. She winced—and she felt his hand touch her, which worsened the pain a tenfold.

''Apollo,'' she gasped. ''Stop.''

He abruptly let go of his hand, and gave her distance. Immediately, the pain relieved until it was manageable. Letting out a heavy breath, she leaned on a nearby column for support.

''Are you okay?'' Artemis heard him ask tentatively. She almost scoffed at the redundancy of the question. She wasn't—and she thought he would know best.

'' _Are you okay?''_ Artemis repeated the question numbly. She almost laughed amidst the pain _,_ but it was but a groan. ''No,'' she whispered, pain ablaze in her eyes. Even afar, his light still hurt her. Grasping the cold marble column for solace, she hoped and wished he wasn't here—despite yearning for his presence mere hours ago.

''Hey,'' Apollo said, snapping his fingers. ''Artemis. Focus on me.''

''I can't see you, Apollo,'' she said vaguely at his words. Artemis thought he'd have noticed by now—after all, it wasn't as if she was hiding it.

He seemed taken aback. ''What?''

She stiffened. Did he really need her to say it?

''… you're blind?'' he said in realization. A turmoil of emotions tumbled through her mind—she knew it for a fact, and yet hearing someone— _hearing_ _Apollo_ say it made her breath hitch and her heart skip a terrified beat.

Artemis nodded timidly, not trusting herself to speak.

''You don't look blind,'' said Apollo, his voice a bare whisper. Filled with unease; his voice a tremble; he didn't know how to comfort her. ''I—I mean you don't seem to different visibly…''

Unwittingly, she snapped at him. ''Is that supposed to be a compliment?''

''I—well, I suppose so?'' Apollo shrugged. She imagined his face; one of carelessness, confusion, and indifference.

''My _retina_ is damaged. Not my pupil. Or anywhere else.'' Artemis exhaled in vexation. ''God of Medicine. I thought you knew better.''

And with that, she burst away in a swirl of silver as the orange-red dusk shed its waning light.

  



	2. Chapter 2

Artemis entered without a knock.

 

She needed to get away from Olympus. Away from Apollo, Hermes, and the waiting stares from the Olympians she could not see. 

 

The first destination that popped in her mind was Delos, and so Delos she went. 

 

Leto was busy at the kitchen, she knew. Clangs of pots and metal bowls as well as the stream of faucet water could be heard from the leftmost side of the home. Artemis took a tentative step forward, creaking the wooden floorboard.

 

The sounds abruptly stopped. Rushed, hurried creaks from the floor neared her, and she forced herself to relax. 

 

‘’Artemis,’’ Leto breathed. ‘’You came to visit.’’ 

 

Artemis gave a small nod in response, and grasped for a table that was not there. 

 

Hurriedly, Leto guided her hand to the table. Running her fingers across the length of the wood, she felt for a chair, and sat. Artemis heard her mother’s quick steps around the table and the pull of a chair. 

 

‘’Now.’’ Leto’s voice was commanding, as if she was a mischievous child again and she was the mother condemning her. But she could hear the underlying softness in her voice. ‘’What have you come to me for? I pray it isn’t just a mere visit, is it?’’

 

Artemis cast a wistful look away from Leto. Truth to be told, she didn’t come just to get away from Olympus. She came for guidance. Artemis didn’t want to rely on Orion, and although she could hunt, somewhat, despite her blindness, she wanted her Mother’s guidance. She wanted someone familiar that wouldn’t judge her, that wouldn’t treat her as someone different, like Apollo did. 

 

The words tumbled out of her mouth. ‘’I… fear, mother. It is childish, but I fear. I cannot see. Every step is a challenge. As if the solid ground itself is unsteady, although I know better. I don’t know what lies ahead of me… and it is the jolt, the sudden presence of which I knew of nothing before that I fear with all my heart. Is it because I don’t know, or is it because I am afraid of the road which lies ahead of me?’’ 

 

‘’There is no shame in fearing, Artemis,’’ Leto said firmly, but her tone was comforting. Artemis found herself basking in the childhood memories, as she reminisced about Leto’s motherly love. ‘’I cannot say that it would be easy; for I’d be lying. Nor would I say it would become better; for it is something I cannot promise. But you are a huntress like me, are you not? You will learn to adapt. You will learn to strive & endure. You will learn to  _ live _ again; and although it is something I cannot promise— it is something I hope.’’

 

Artemis breathed in a sigh. ‘’I can hunt, Mother, but… it isn’t the same.’’ A chuckle came from her, as she thought of her hunt of the birds with Orion earlier. Past her would be disgusted at the lows she’d hunted at. ‘’—Is it selfish of me to want to keep my past life?’’

 

‘’Artemis.’’ Leto stated firmly. She grasped her hand; and cradled it in hers. ‘’In  _ no way  _ is it selfish. You wish for the past—for the past is something you are familiar with. Now, when dealing with something unfamiliar, you want to fall back on something you know. Remember your first hunt?’’

 

Yes, she remembered. She was out hunting with Apollo and her Mother, as they hunted for the Stymphalian birds. She didn’t even manage to shoot a single bird; she even managed to lose her brother and Mother twice; and yet, it was a memory she cherished and learnt from.

 

_ Remember the stars,  _ her mother had said. _ The  _ _ Ursa Major points North. Follow it, and navigate from there; for there's no reliable star for the East, West or the South. So, my love, remember the stars.  _

 

It was a lesson she learnt, and a lesson she used whenever she was lost; despite the failure of her first hunt. Artemis nodded slightly. ‘’I understand, Mother.’’

 

Leto squeezed her hand—once, twice, and thumbed away the tears that appeared from Artemis’ eyes. ‘’Do what you love,’’ Leto exhaled. ‘’Do what makes you feel like yourself. And I forbid you to mope—’’ Leto said, as her eyes flared with ardour. ‘’—feeling bad for yourself may feel like a cure, but you will hate the world for it. And  _ never say _ it is selfish to yearn your past—live in the present, and remember to yearn the future as much you do the past.’’

 

Artemis let Leto lead her outside; and when she felt the fresh air; the soft grass; the scent of the spring;  _ the palace of her memories _ ; she almost managed to smile again. 

 

‘’Go hunt, Artemis,’’ she heard Leto say as Artemis prepared to leave. ‘’Don’t let anything hold you back—whether it be fear or reputation or else—for the night is yours.’’

 

**...**

 

Artemis stumbled into the city of Crete.

 

It was a maze of houses and buildings; that she remembered from her tour of the city with Apollo, but being within the maze was severely different from merely floating above, onlooking the city beneath.

 

She knew that the hunter had to be here. He was selling the birds in the Marketplace; and if if the birds weren’t sold by dusk then he’d have to stash it nearby—which would be in his home. 

 

Finding Orion was as hard as finding a needle in a haystack; and she was groping for the needle blindly at that. 

 

_ Orion,  _ she thought. A voice in her head berated her:  _ why did she try to sought out the male hunter? She could’ve stayed in Olympus and let them heal her sight. Hell, she could’ve just stayed in Delos; for her home, her comfort and her mother as she retrained herself—why Orion, of all people? _

 

But nothing irritated her more than the image of Apollo; who burnt her eyes out, left her in that cave, never tried to sought her out; pleading apologies and prayers while ‘’ _ trying’’  _ to heal her. How much she wanted to spite him.

 

_ Hah _ , she thought darkly.  _ Even a mortal male plays better than you, god.  _

 

Suddenly, acute pain assaulted her; burning feverishly, blindingly; mockingly in her eyes. It was as if an inferno was lit from within and was ravaging all that it touched; but it was an inferno ablaze with cold instead of heat; with sorrow instead of pain; with the mocking touch of Death instead of the agony of life. 

 

She cried a sound of pain; and tore at her eyes, waiting and wishing for the cold stabs; the unsurmountable pain; the fleeting relief to stop.

 

After what felt like an eternity—the throbbing washed away like a cool, freeing douse; the pain dulled into nothing but silence; her tears cleared like a receding tide; as she wiped away the residue left in her eyes.

 

And like that, her sight was black no more—but fragmented with swathes of bright, silver light from the Moon. She rubbed it some more; as if she were cleaning windows from its grime; and the fragments packed together, darkness receding once and for all, until all that was left was sight. 

 

She stood, eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe what she saw; and surveyed the landscape, bathed in a silver Moon, as she occasionally rubbed her eyes as she hoped she wasn’t dreaming. 

 

‘’It’s real,’’ she exhaled quietly, almost childlike; as if what she saw was thought impossible until now. ‘’I can see again.’’

 

‘’Like Prometheus,’’ said a voice from behind her. She turned around, and saw a man of twenty—a large, sturdy build, a hair of messy jet-black, and the almost quiet, indistinct whirr of mechanical, sea-blue eyes.

 

She recognised that voice. Grimly, she said—the childlike awe no longer residing in her voice— ’’I’d prefer you not use that analogy, Orion.’’ 

 

He bowed his head. ‘’My apologies.’’

 

But once the analogy entered her head, she couldn’t get rid of it. Prometheus was tortured by day by Zeus’ Eagle; which ripped open his livers and feasted on it until night fell; which was when the Eagle relented and Prometheus’ liver regenerated—and when day came the whole process rewound itself again. 

 

She was Prometheus, her livers regenerating in her domain during the Night, as she let out a sigh of relief and enjoyed the fleeting release from the cruel grasp of the Eagle; but to lose her sight again when Sun dawned, as the Eagle came back for another feast of its life—as the never-ending cycle repeated itself, again and again for eternity.

 

Pushing away the troubling thought, she focused on Orion—who perhaps had witnessed her dilemma, for he was staring guiltily at the rays of the Moon. 

 

She sighed softly, almost smiling ironically. _If you are so pained by my_ _dilemma, then_ _you should’ve thought about the implications of your analogy, Orion._

But then, her tirade of thoughts broke when Orion extended his hand—almost sheepishly, she saw. ‘’Milady,’’ he said softly. ‘’Would I have the honour to hunt with the Goddess of the Moon?’’

 

A light smile surfaced, as she drew the silver bow sheathed on her back. ‘’Put away that hand, Orion, and take out your club—we’ll hunt for ’tis merry night.’’

 

Her troubles could wait until dawn.

 

**...**

**_It had been exactly a month since she began her Hunt with Orion._ **

**_Artemis knew, because she remembered the date when Apollo was blessed by Helios with his powers. And it was that day when she met Orion, and that day when she first hunted blind._ **

‘’Steady, Orion.’’ Artemis’ voice hollered through the clearing. ‘’The bow cannot be pulled by force; It would only break. However, without any strength, the bow cannot be pulled. The bow is only a tool, Orion. You must master it before trying to do anything with it.’’

‘’I know Artemis, I know!’’ Orion threw the bow onto the ground, much to the dismay of Artemis. He then started pacing around in circles, occasionally smoothing out his hair as he did so.

Artemis sighed. She knew that Orion was an impatient man, but he was still her friend and hunting partner. 

‘’Orion, If you do not try, you will never know.’’

She put a firm hand on his shoulder. He didn't try to resist, though. His shoulders only slumped, a resigned expression now blossoming his face — perhaps because he knew that she was correct.

If Artemis noticed, then she made no acknowledgment of it — only picking up the discarded bow that lay on the dirt ground, carefully brushing the grime off as she handed it back to him.

She nodded at him in the slightest, the bow on her extended hand. ''Here, Orion. Do not give up so quickly, for that you have potential.'' It was high praise, especially when your hunting companion was a goddess.

Orion glanced at the bow in her hand, red rising up his normally calm cheeks. He hung his head in shame and took the bow from her outstretched palm. ''I'm sorry. That was rash.''

Despite herself, Artemis found herself breaking into a small smile. ''Yes, Orion. Yes, it was. Do not forget that it was my bow that you had thrown around. I could've turned you into a hind for that.''

Finally, Orion lifted his head, breaking into a smirk. ''Oh? Is that so? I suppose that hunting —  _ sorry _ , being  _ hunted _ for my entire life by an enraged maiden goddess just because he had her bow dirtied sounds great. Are we starting now?''

This time, it was Artemis whom reddened. ''Shut up, you fool. As for that, I'll let your hunting dog Sirius hunt you like a rabbit— sorry,  _ as _ a rabbit. What would you prefer?''

He only winked; a wink the Maiden goddess couldn’t see. 

**…**

Nighttime. 

Artemis ran across the boundless plains, her bow drawn and a confident smile on her face. Behind her ran Orion, his head shaking in mild exasperation, but a grin bore his face.

_ ‘’Selene guards the Moon tonight,’’ he remembered Artemis say, as she breathed a smile. ‘’This night is mine.’’ _

He followed the running goddess into the thick dense forests of Crete. She expertly dodged the overhanging branches, brushed her fingers against the rustling leaves, and leaped over the underlying roots hidden by the dirt. Orion struggled to keep up; but didn’t complain, letting the goddess have all the freeity she deserved.

It was night, and Artemis’ domain reigned once again.

‘’I forgot how this felt like,’’ exhaled Artemis, finally slowing to a stop. In the clearing, the full moon illuminated her pale features, and the only noise Orion heard was the crickets in the night and the sound of his heavy breathing. Overhead, the silver moon glowed brighter still. 

Artemis whipped her head around to face him. The beads of sweat on her forehead was evident to him now, but the goddess had never looked better, he thought to himself. 

‘’Come, Orion,’’ she said amidst his slow panting. ‘’Tis’ night has barely started, and we have so much more to see.’’

_ See _ , he contemplated. The Moon goddess’ sight had been cut short, and every night the Moon rose, she always cherished what little time she had. During these times, Orion had found it hard to keep up with her; in the night, she was at her full strength, and, like the full moon, finally whole again.

He could understand the sentiment, even share it, perhaps. Orion remembered the time when he was blind, groping through the city as he became the laughing-stock of Chios, because of his crime and his blindness. 

Orion winced at the memory. He tried not to think about that. 

After regaining his sight with the help of Hephaestus, he had stared at the world in wonder, with an awe no other could understand; an awe no-one couldn’t appreciate unless they had lost their sight, felt the despair and the resignation that came with it—and, just when they’d accepted their fate, they were given it back. 

He knew that this was not the case with most people; and he was a rare exception. But still. He couldn’t help but enjoy the lights, the colors, and the vista that came with it.

As the goddess’ time was short and precious as it was rare, Orion had tried not to get in her way and let her enjoy herself while she was at her fullest; though for some reason, she always insisted on joining her along, even if all he did was drag her down.

Orion bit back a smile, and sighed. Women. He wouldn’t ever understand them...

**…**

‘’Follow me!’’ Artemis yelled over the noises of the night, weaving in between and leaping onto the sturdy branches of the thick trees, as if she was orchestrating a dance. Orion forced down the mumble of complaint and obliged, using his waning strength to push the lithe evergreen down, while barging clumsily through the thickly-weaved trees. He had nowhere near the grace Artemis used so fluently, but he had the strength to make up for it.

And… she was already nowhere to be seen.

Orion scanned the humid forest. Not a shadow. He listened intently, hoping to pick out a noise. Not a sound. Finally, almost as a last resort, he glanced up at the full moon above him, which glowed a shade darker in response, as if she was teasing him…

_ Wait. _

Orion returned his gaze to the forest, but this time, he focused on the dirt. Sure enough, the rainfall that pounded on earlier had washed the grounds wet… and thus a trail of footprints were left behind in the goddess’ wake. 

Orion scoffed in exasperation at himself, and shook his head.  _ How could he be so stupid? _ Following tracks was the  **first** lesson any hunter would’ve learned, and he hunted beside the Moon goddess herself. No wonder even the Moon laughed at him.

How did he miss it? Such a simple thing.

_ And yet you were distracted. Occupied. By… _

He didn’t daresay.

Suddenly, a loud bark bought him out of his thoughts. Orion turned his head from the footprints to see Sirius, his hunting dog, yipping gleefully at his presence. 

Orion whistled to his dog, and knelt down, arms outstretched, which prompted Sirius to bound towards him and slobber all over his face.

Orion winced slightly at the slobber, but nonetheless ruffled Srirus’s fur and smiled. ‘’Hey. Good dog.  _ Wait—stop stop stop, that tickles _ —’’ he gasped out between licks. 

Once Sirius had finally settled down, Orion’s gaze landed on the silhouette that had bought his dog here. ‘’Artemis,’’ he greeted. ‘’Long time no see. I see you’ve been using him to track down my scent.’’

Artemis’ silver eyes shone in the face of moonlight. ‘’Well. It is not the only way to track down a man’s foul stench.’’ A hint of a smile played on her lips.

Orion laughed out loud, rubbing a nuzzling Sirius’s head. ‘’I’ll be forever known as _the_ _only_ _hunter_ that got lost in the woods.’’

Artemis’ eyes twinkled in amusement. ‘’It won’t be the only thing you’ll be remembered by, I promise,’’ she said in jest, but her words were genuine.

She extended a hand. ‘’Come, Orion. We do not want to miss the dawn, do we?’’

Orion smiled throughout the entire journey west.

**...**

‘’Apollo.’’ Artemis stated, as she entered through Olympus’ gates. She felt his presence; an aura of warmth and heat warping the air around him—and of course, the insistent, nagging pain that flared in her sightless eyes.

Her hunt with Orion had yielded several birds, critters, and one large stag. She let Orion take the meat to the Marketplace to sell, while she returned to Olympus to join one of Zeus’ meetings. And apparently, Apollo couldn’t give her a break. 

She knew that he was supposed to be riding the Sun Chariot; but he had stopped, ever since she was blinded. Hermes had told her. 

She didn’t know what to feel about that. 

‘’Artemis,’’ he returned. She could almost envision his shaky smile, his feet nervously grinding against ground, a shift in his awkward tone. All of which she acted like never existed. 

‘’It’s nice to see you back.’’

‘’Same goes to you.’’ She replied coldly. She didn’t think—or at least tried not to—of all he did once she became blind. By  _ his  _ flame. 

All but nothing. His constant nagging about Orion. About her vow. But she knew there was more to that. 

‘’Heard you’ve been spending time near a hunter lately.’’

She stiffened. ‘’He is my companion.’’ It was one line she knew would piss him off. For that for more than millennia; ever since they were born,  _ he  _ had been her hunting companion.  _ He  _ had held the title of being the man-hating goddess’s companion—none else.  _ He _ had been her hunter.  _ He _ was once her only male friend. 

And he would be so if he hadn’t abandoned her to the dark. 

Apollo’s aura felt to burn darkly.  _ Hah.  _ ‘’That still does not explain your close proximity to that… man,’’ he spat out The word like it was a curse.

‘’And what part of me owes an explanation to you?’’ She asked almost innocuously, but the fiery rage ran rampant in its undertone. ‘’Especially after…  _ you…  _ **_blinded_ ** _ me.’’ _

‘’Artemis…’’ he tried, but she was having none of it. She knew she was being petty—but he had it coming, mentioning Orion like that in the first place at all. 

‘’And that doesn’t even matter,’’ she scoffed. Before even giving him an opportunity to retort, she said: ‘’I don’t even  _ care  _ about that part. I don’t care that your sun made me lose my sight. The part _ I  _ care is where you’ve done absolutely  _ nothing  _ to help.’’ 

Of course he had. But she wouldn’t know, would she? 

‘’You did nothing Apollo. You didn’t even try.’’

He began to mumble. ‘’I tried, Artemis… I really have…’’

‘’Damn you,’’ she muttered. And without another further word she left Apollo at the gates of Olympus, ignoring the upset aura flickering from him, stalking off to somewhere where she didn’t care. 


End file.
